


I Shouldn't Have Lied

by HazelNMae



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 00:57:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20480336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNMae/pseuds/HazelNMae
Summary: Written for Anon using the prompt "Sorry, I shouldn't have lied to you."





	I Shouldn't Have Lied

Alfie Solomons was a big man. Not big in the traditional sense, he was quite short compared to many of the men who worked for him, but he was big. Bigger in personality, in stature, in aggression, and in love. 

You’d fallen for Alfie almost the minute you spoke to him, immediately appreciating how he worked around a story before actually getting to the point. You could listen to him talk all day–even about nothing, which he so often did.

Alfie had fallen for you, too, almost immediately. Although he’d never actually let you know that. He had to keep up the hard demeanor. Had to remain big, afterall.

It wasn’t until you’d known one another for about a year that he actually asked you out, on a proper date. You’d spent several meals together discussing business, but had never just enjoyed one another’s company for pleasure.

When he died, your late husband left you as sole proprietor of his successful export business. The first thing you did was expand that business to ship alcohol across the Atlantic to the thirsty Americans who were willing to pay top dollar for it. You’d made yourself, and others like Alfie, incredibly wealthy.

But you’d also made enemies.

And Alfie was there to help you navigate the waters of illegal distribution just as you were there to help him expand his business.

It was an impactful partnership, but you wanted more.

On your first date, Alfie fumbled with his words, knocked over your glass of wine, and unintentionally offended the server. By all accounts it was a disaster of a date. But you’d never had so much fun.

The pair of you grew closer over the months that followed, but he never again asked you on a date or tried to spend time with you romantically. Devastated, you told yourself he had never had feelings for you and only asked you on the one date out of pity.

Then things fell apart.

A shipment bound for America was lost.

“Bloody fucking pirates?!” You yelled over the phone. “It’s 1923! Pirates only exist in stories we tell our fucking children!”

But it _had _been pirates. They’d looted and sunk the cruiser carrying your shipment. Alfie’s shipment.

Fuck.

Instead of telling him right away, you tried to come up with a fix. You wracked your brain thinking for any way to get another shipment out, immediately, without his knowing. For any answer that would allow you to save face, to keep you from having to admit the mistake. 

But you could think of nothing.

So you said nothing.

You weren’t quite sure, at first, why you did it–sat on the truth and hoped it would go away. You knew better–had seen enough fall apart to know that you couldn’t avoid your problems. But it was less out of your own need and more out of a fear for Alfie that you kept your mouth shut. You knew he’d be furious, would likely end your partnership and subsequent friendship immediately. But you’d already decided that was okay. What really worried you was the thought that it could hurt him. This was a significant fortune lost. He could lose more than just a friend–he _could _lose a portion of his business. And you couldn’t stand the thought of being the source of that loss.

But it didn’t much matter. Alfie, as he always did, found out on his own.

“What’s the business I hear about a lost shipment?” He asked, barging through the front room of your building and into your office.

You just looked at him, shocked he’d come to you–Alfie always, always, insisted on meeting at the bakery.

“Alfie, look–” you muttered, trying to compose yourself.

“No, you look, love,” he interrupted. “I could overlook the incident. It wasn’t your fault, after all, right? But what I can’t overlook. What I can’t fuckin’ overlook, is that you lied to me.”

“Alfie–” you began, backing against the wall as he stepped closer to you.

“You sat on this what, a fuckin week?”

He was in your face–had you backed against the wall. Yet, you weren’t necessarily fearful. 

Silently, he looked you over. Face inches from your own. Eyes darting between yours. 

You felt your heart break. You’d fucked up. You should have told him. It was obvious now he felt pain–not anger. You’d betrayed him. You’d injured him.

“Alfie, I’m sorry–” a lump caught in your throat “–I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Alfie just hummed in response but didn’t inch away from you.

Instead, he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you to him while he simultaneously pushed into you. His body crashed into yours. His lips finding your own. Your eyes slamming shut in response. 

Quickly, you pushed him away.

“Alfie, what the fuck!?” you shouted.

But he just grabbed you again. And this time you let him. 

You returned his kiss, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling yourself ever closer. 

In that moment, it struck you how big Alfie _wasn’t_. 

His personality, his aggression, his stature–they were all part of a facade. It was a part he played. And it was _big_.

But the real Alfie–the Alfie that held you tight, that kissed you with warmth. That Alfie was tender and soft and small.

And you felt grateful, at last, to have found him.


End file.
